


A Fantastically Good Development

by Moonlitdark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Boss/Employee Relationship, Desk Sex, First Time, M/M, Office Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28590660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlitdark/pseuds/Moonlitdark
Summary: Malfoy stooped in that annoyingly alluring way and Harry sighed again in a mixture of unbridled, rising lust and sheer frustration. But there was no harm in observing. Harry should be safe enough from over here. He’d just need to be somewhat covert in his appreciation and no-one would notice the drool.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 112





	A Fantastically Good Development

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a long time ago on Livejournal. So if it seems familiar, you've probably read it before.

Scowling, Harry berated the stupidity of whoever had organised the office floor plan until he abruptly recalled that it had been him. Being the boss had its advantages, after all. Indeed, the position of power provided many opportunities to make ludicrous and rash decisions which no-one else could overturn. Maybe Harry wasn’t management material.

Harry sighed. He really, really should’ve relocated the man sharing his office. The small space seemed permanently filled with Malfoy’s scent - permeating Harry’s clothing, hair and skin before following him home to taunt him. Harry didn’t like being taunted. Didn’t care for it at all. With this continuing close proximity, he recognised that events were likely to come to a head soon but wasn't looking forward to the humiliating rejection.

The safest plan would be to stay well back - ensure that there was always a chasm’s width between himself and the object of his fantasies and wait until the madness subsided. It was just unfortunate that the ‘madness’ hadn’t shown any sign of going away for the last few months, despite his best efforts to ignore it. 

Malfoy stooped in that annoyingly alluring way and Harry sighed again in a mixture of unbridled, rising lust and sheer frustration. But there was no harm in observing from across the chasm. He should be safe enough from over here. He’d just need to be somewhat covert in his appreciation and no-one would notice the drool. 

He silently cursed the stifling summer for being responsible for the removal of the thick, robed cloth which usually served as a barrier between his roving eye and those figure-hugging trousers. Dropping his gaze to the page in front of him, Harry surreptitiously wiped his mouth with the back of a sweaty hand and went back to the pretence of work. Work might help. It just hadn’t helped so far.

From the corner of his eye, he watched his assistant drape all those long, lean limbs in the nearby seat and pick up a quill before leisurely leafing through the topmost parchments of the tall pile on Malfoy’s desk. Harry scolded himself for looking closely enough to determine how manicured Malfoy’s fingernails were. But perhaps they weren’t manicured; they might simply be naturally stunning like the rest of that sublime body. He pondered the benefits of utilising another office far from here, possibly in the deepest, darkest corner of the basement. Very, very far from here.

If only he didn’t want to touch Malfoy… hold him so badly. He’d done precisely that once, during a brief moment of lunacy. It could have been easily justified as merely a fleeting fumble at a predictably drunken office party, except Harry hadn’t been drunk.

After a few more minutes of stealthy appreciation, Harry noted that no parchment had yet been removed from Malfoy’s precarious pile and wondered for the umpteenth time that week whether his assistant ever attempted to work. That concern was quickly forgotten though, when an oddly random statement was sent his way from the adjacent desk.

“This is sexual harassment, Potter.”

Malfoy was stroking his chin with the quill, back and forth, so it took Harry a little longer than usual before he remembered to reply. And that he was being accused of something. “What is?”

“All the gawping, it's not very subtle. And it's very distracting.” The Muggle pen in Harry’s suddenly tight grasp snapped cleanly in two, but he chose to ignore it. “Anyway, I think that you should either stop leering at me all day like a sex-starved adolescent or just shag me through your desk and get it over with.”

Harry's ‘leer’ at that moment was possibly more similar to a gape of horror. This was not a good development. Actually, Harry thought that it was _fantastically_ good, but he was determinedly disregarding the notion while he thought of something to say.

Malfoy surveyed the remainders of the pen, astute eyes following one half’s progress as it tumbled off the edge of the desk. “You should treat the contents of this office with more respect.”

Respect? Harry was busy trying to decide who was harassing whom. He decided that it didn't matter. “There… there will be _no_ shagging on my desk.”

“Well, how about mine then? Seems sturdy enough.”

Professionalism didn’t stand a chance in the midst of Harry’s indignant conflict. “I don’t _want_ to shag you!”

Malfoy shifted out from behind his desk and sauntered over towards Harry’s, his mannerism disturbingly comparable to stalking. Harry had both the horrible and breath-taking impression that he'd already lost the fight. Halting directly in front of the desk, Malfoy smirked that smirk and Harry’s body temperature (amongst other things), rose dangerously. “You seemed to want to before. Not that we got far.”

“That was… before.”

“But not now?”

“That’s right,” Harry confirmed, amazing himself when he succeeded in looking back down at his paper, although his façade of calm probably needed some improvement.

“Don’t you approve of shagging in the workplace, Potter?”

“Of course not.”

“But you haven’t even _tried_ it with me.”

“And I don’t intend to.” Plucking a new pen from the holder, Harry valiantly battled the shaking of his hand to press nib to parchment. But the act of writing words was slightly too much to hope for.

“Sure, you do. Let me see… I envision you as a bottom, Potter. But one who occasionally wouldn’t mind topping for a sufficiently submissive partner. I, on the other hand,” Malfoy continued over Harry’s spluttered non-coherence, “am most inclined to top, but would like to consider myself flexible enough to bend over for the right man.”

Harry was failing to think of a reason why that suggestion wasn’t a good idea. 

Flippant disregard, that’s what he should aim for. “Why, have you shagged many people on my desk?” Harry enquired with a light smirk of his own. 

“Not yours, no.”

“On _yours_?”

Malfoy’s nonchalant shrug didn’t help to appease Harry’s shock. “Not exactly shagged, but I have groped a little.”

“You’ve been groping men on the desks in my office? I should fire you for that.” _And for not including me_ , his inner voice added with a distinct huff.

Malfoy didn’t appear troubled by his imminent unemployment. “I didn’t say _who_ I’d been groping.”

“Does it _matter_?”

“Yes. I think it’s very important.”

“It’s still disgusting.”

That smile was _definitely_ disgusting. Lewd and seeped in undisguised lust. Harry loved it. But Malfoy was speaking, so Harry really should be paying attention. “I've sat on my desk with my cock in hand, slowly bringing myself to an earth-shattering orgasm while fantasising how… delectable it would be to be mercilessly fucked by your cock. I believe that qualifies as ‘groping’.”

Harry silently concurred that it probably did. Basking in this wonderful new vision, he greatly wanted to ask for further details, but instead the query which escaped his lips was steeped in much more hostility.

“What do you _want_ , Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s head tilt exposed a length of pale, all too kissable neck. “I thought that I’d just told you.”

Every nerve ending in Harry’s body was banding together to vote that he should immediately cease all protests, discussion or any other action which might delay the commencement of the suggested event, but he didn’t want to appear _that_ desperate. Even if he was.

His cock was currently attempting to ram its way out the front of his straining zipper as Harry tried to rein in his libido to a manageable level. He was starting to feel slightly dizzy… he would ask another question… that might help distract him enough to calm down.

“So… who would bottom?” Probably not the most calming of questions, really.

“That’s up to you. Like I said, I’m fairly flexible.” Harry was willing to bet that Malfoy was _very_ flexible indeed. He hoped that he’d find out soon. “So, what’ll it be?”

If this turned out to be an elaborate prank, Harry suspected that he might never recover from the embarrassment, but he sucked in a lungful of air to fuel his decision. “I’ll top.”

Malfoy’s offhand, “Okay,” didn’t quite describe the magnitude of this moment.

Harry felt compelled to do something about that nonchalance. “But first, I want you to show me.”

“Show you what?”

He set down his pen. “The ‘groping’, Malfoy. I want to see how you looked perched on that desk, wanking yourself to a fantasy of me.”

“You want to watch me?”

“Very much. Get on the desk.”

“Is my employer giving me an order?”

Harry rose from his chair to stand in the open space beside his prospective lover. “Yes.”

“Oh, good,” Malfoy chirped as two pale, steady hands set to work unbuckling and unzipping his trousers. “Do you want me to take them off?”

“Just do whatever you’d do if I wasn’t here. But, on _my_ desk.”

The straining against Harry’s own trousers grew more urgent as Malfoy pushed waistbands down over slim curves of hip and let them rest in the crease where buttocks met thighs.

It was all that Harry had imagined, no it was _better_ than he’d imagined. The cock which had been hiding underneath that clothing stood proud and erect, thick and long in a bed of blond curls and the last tiny remnant of irresolution which he'd clung to dissolved as Malfoy hopped up onto the wood.

Harry blinked in astonishment as his view of that stiff reddened cock was partially blocked by a circle of fingers. He wished that he had something to lean on, to cease his slight swaying as Malfoy’s fist moved slowly up the shaft but didn’t want to relinquish his prime viewing position. Malfoy’s hand reached the tip, swept briefly and lightly over the head to smear a droplet of moisture and made its way back downwards. This manoeuvre was repeated slowly, purposefully and when Harry found the courage to break his gaze from the movement to look at Malfoy’s face, he noticed that the man on his desk wasn’t looking back. Malfoy was staring down at his lap with utmost concentration, bottom lip hanging just millimetres from its partner as he stroked. 

And Harry couldn’t take it anymore. Two steps forward brought him between outstretched thighs and he dropped to his knees, quickly covering the hand on Malfoy’s cock with his own. He noted a questioning frown, but no objection was voiced when he encouraged the fingers to relinquish their hold. Harry rested one palm on each of Malfoy’s thighs for balance as his head dipped. He lingered just long enough for a taste from the moist slit before he straightened his back and purposely met Malfoy’s gaze. 

Spurred on by the lust he saw there, his mouth opened further and he slid down, swallowing. Harry listened for a gasp as his throat closed around the width. He wasn’t disappointed. Fingers twisted and clung to his hair but didn't attempt to either control or encourage a rhythm. Enjoying the pain in his scalp, Harry felt thrilled to be the cause of such tension. He didn’t move back up, instead kept his head motionless, slithering his tongue along the length in his mouth until he soon felt a tell-tale shudder. 

He'd thought that Malfoy would last longer; display more restraint, somehow. Feeling smug as he eased his head back, Harry matched the pace of his withdrawal with the low, drawn out groan from above. Revelling in his achievement, he pushed himself off the floor to finally sweep the constricting material of his own lower garments aside. Glazed grey eyes focused on Harry’s exposed erection, but Harry didn’t have the patience to delay while Malfoy looked his fill. 

“Stand up and turn around,” Harry ordered.

Since this instruction was surprisingly followed, he didn’t wait to issue another one. Harry's palm shoved until Malfoy’s chest was flat against the desk. Malfoy cushioned his cheek with his arms and waited.

Harry didn't keep him waiting long. He dug his fingers into the crack between pliant buttocks, savouring the feel of springy flesh in his grip. Time to play. “Can you do wandless magic, Malfoy?”

The hesitance indicated a level of confusion. “A… bit. Why?”

“We need a lubrication spell.”

More hesitation, a lengthier gap. “But I know that you can perform wandless magic. Can’t you…?”

Absolutely not. Harry wanted active participation with this task. “If you want lubrication, you're going to need to provide it.”

“Potter, don’t fuck with me.”

“I thought that was the plan,” Harry said, positioning his cock against the dry hole. He didn’t miss the tiny jerk of panic which rippled along Malfoy’s back, but he wasn't going to meekly back down after all the fantasising he'd done lately. He was on top, _he_ was in charge. Finally.

“But, not for my…”

“Concentrate.”

“ _Potter_ …” but Malfoy’s rebuke faded away to be replaced by hushed chanting as Harry’s cock prodded gently, insisting, but not breaching past the muscles. Yet.

He was pleased when the area around Malfoy's opening gradually became moist. The exhale from the man beneath him was obviously born from relief, but Harry didn’t feel the need to explain that he would’ve provided the necessary spell if Malfoy had failed.

As he began to press inwards, just by a fraction, his lover found a louder voice. “What're you _doing_?” Malfoy yelled, jerking his bottom out of reach.

“Isn't it obvious?” 

“You need to stretch me first!”

“Don't you like it tight, Malfoy?”

The whisper was so low that Harry had to crane forward to hear it. “I… don't know. I told you that I'm a top.”

Harry severely hoped that statement didn't imply what he thought it did. “You've… never done this?”

“Is that an issue, Potter?”

Not an issue, but bloody surprising, nonetheless. Feeling suddenly awful that he'd mocked this man during what should be an important moment, Harry's tone softened. “No. But you should've told me. I'll need to take this a bit… slower.”

“You _think?_ ”

Inwardly vowing to make up for his rashness, Harry slid a finger down the crevice between buttocks, teasing the clenched muscles of Malfoy's anus.

“Just relax.”

“Oh, yes. Because I'd always be able to relax in the presence of someone who threatened to shove their cock up my arse without either lubrication _or_ preparation.”

“I wouldn't really have… not without… I'm sorry,” Harry finished, flinching and removing all contact. The horrible sensation of guilt grew stronger, wilting Harry’s erection as he backed off a few steps. The dream, the fantasy was slipping away.

Malfoy hadn't made any effort to stand up. “Are you going somewhere?” 

“I just… I shouldn't.” The idea that Malfoy would give up his first time to a casual fuck didn't sit well with Harry.

Malfoy's cheek burrowed into the cradle of his folded arms. “You don't want to.”

“You shouldn't… not with me. You should wait, for someone you want to be with.”

“But I'm here.”

“This is hardly the beginning of a wonderful relationship.”

“Isn't it?”

“Do _you_ think that it is?”

“I don't know.” These admissions from Malfoy were becoming slightly disconcerting. “But I'm hoping not to move from here before I've at least been shagged.”

Chuckling, Harry stepped forward to rest a hand on Malfoy's right buttock. Perhaps he was overanalysing this. Maybe they should really just get to the fucking. So… preparation.

A lengthy preparation later, Harry's impatience was reaching explosive levels, but he forced himself to be patient. But it wasn’t made any easier by the responsive noises Malfoy liked to create. When Malfoy had howled at the location of his prostate, Harry had almost abandoned the concept of restraint. Malfoy appeared to be very enthusiastic about the discovery. Harry could relate to that. Harry really needed to fuck him soon.

But it should be safe to proceed. He really hoped so. “Okay, I think… you're ready.”

“I think I was ready about half an hour ago, Potter.”

“I wanted to be sure.”

“Take my word for it.”

That word was more than good enough for Harry. He pushed in with extreme caution, until he heard a ‘tut’ of impatience which encouraged a stronger thrust. And another.

Malfoy’s spread arms and splayed fingers braced him on the desk as he pushed back against Harry’s thrusts. Harry kept the speed slow and steady, careful and deep. But he had questions, even now.

“Is this what you wanted?” The nod of agreement didn’t satisfy. “Then why didn’t… you ask for it before?”

Malfoy’s words were quiet pants of breath, emerging with each inward thrust. “I… wanted you to… ask me. But you… wouldn’t.”

The truth in the latter part of that statement caused a hitch in Harry’s rhythm, but he quickly recovered. “What if… someone walked in here?”

“I'd want… them to see.”

That honesty pulled out Harry’s climax. Trembling with the force, he knew that he was too early, but it was too much to contain with the thought that he might actually be able to have this. Really _have_ it.

Breathing heavily, still connected, Harry lamented that he hadn’t waited for Malfoy. Harry hummed his desire for understanding into an ear, even as his fingers sought out the neglected erection bobbing under Malfoy's flat stomach. “So why haven’t you been letting other men fuck you like this?” He gripped the length firmly but reverently, steady fingers hopefully disguising his excitement, his doubt. “If you’ve wanted it so much? Didn’t you want people to see who else claimed you?”

“No-one would've ever have seen that.”

Just one last question. One last twist of his wrist. One last, decisive stroke. “Why not?”

Malfoy shuddered, spurting onto the desk and Harry’s fist, the usually confident voice trembling as he spoke. “Because I’d never… be anyone else’s.”


End file.
